He was just passing the greengrocer's shop, its awning stretched over the morning's offerings: baskets of early vegetables and strawberries and asparagus. A motorcar drew up beside him, and Rutledge turned to see who was there. He found himself face-to-face with Charles Archer seated behind a chauffeur, one of the servants Rut- ledge had met in the Hallowfields kitchen.
Archer's invalid's chair was lashed to the boot in a special brace made for it.
'My apologies. I can't come down. Will you ride with me as far as the green? '
'Yes, of course.' Rutledge got into the rear of the motorcar and nearly stopped short when he realized that there was no room for Hamish to sit. But that was foolishness. He shut the door and turned to Archer. The man shook his head. Silence fell until the motorcar pulled to the verge next to the green. There Archer said to the chauffeur, 'Leave us for a few minutes, will you? A turn around the green should be sufficient.'
When the man was out of earshot, Archer continued. 'I've just come from Doctor O'Neil's surgery. I'm told you haven't-er- finished yet with Harold's remains. But I wanted to see the body for myself. He refused to let me, even though I was there to identify it.'
'In due course.'
'I haven't told Mrs. Quarles what I came to do. She will insist on carrying out that duty herself. But there's no need.'
'If you'll forgive me for saying so, Mr. Archer, she doesn't seem to be distressed over her husband's death. I doubt you're sparing her, except in your own mind.'
'She married the most eligible of men. It was seen as a good match in spite of his background. Only she discovered too late that the facade didn't match the man. I don't know what precipitated the break between them, but she has said she had very good reasons for turning her back on him.'
'Then why not a divorce, to end the match once and for all?'
'I don't know. It isn't money. She has her own. I think it was in a way to prevent him from marrying anyone else. God knows why that mattered to her.'
Hamish noted, 'He's verra' plausible…'
'Perhaps to prevent another woman suffering as she has done?' Rutledge suggested.
'That's too altruistic. I love Maybelle, in spite of the fact that I'm her cousin. I'd have married her myself, if she hadn't met Quarles while I was away in Switzerland for some time. My mother was ill and the mountain air had been recommended for her. I stayed there six years, watching her die. When I came home, it was to an invitation to a wedding. And I couldn't talk her out of it. You saw Quarles dead, I imagine. You never knew him when he exerted that wretched ability to make people agree to whatever he wanted. It's what made him a successful investment banker.'
Remembering what Heller had hinted, Rutledge said, 'Did any of his advice go wrong? I mean very wrong, not just an investment that didn't work as it had been promised to do.'
'He was damned astute. That was his trademark. Nothing went wrong that he hadn't balanced in one's portfolio to take up the risk, should the worst happen. People were very pleased. That was, until Cumberline.'
'Cumberline?' He'd seen the box with a label bearing that name in Quarles's study.
'Yes, it was an adventure stock. A South Seas Bubble sort of thing, as it turned out. Do you remember Cecil Rhodes's great concept of a Cairo to Cape Town Railway driven through the heart of Africa? The same sort of thing, but here the railroad would run from Dar Es Salaam to the Congo River, with goods coming by ship from the southern Indian Ocean to the East African coast, carried by train overland to the Congo, and then put on ships again for the passage north. It was expected to save the journey through the Red Sea and the Mediterranean and was to bring out ivory and other goods from East Africa as well. Zanzibar spices, Kenyan coffee, wild animals for the zoos of the world, and anything that expanded scientific knowledge. Labor would be cheap, and using the river cut the costs of such a railway nearly in half. On paper, it was exotic, and many men who had made money in the war were in search of new enterprises. Especially with Tanganyika in our hands now.'
'I must have been in France while this was talked about. It sounds feasible, but then I don't know much about the Congo, other than that the Belgians fought the Germans from there. As did Britain in Kenya. How deep is the Congo where a train could transfer goods?'
'I've no idea. Neither did the promoters or the investors. It turned out to be a case of the sly fox being tricked by sharper wolves. Quarles had mentioned it to a few of his clients but for the most part didn't promote it. And it was just as well there were only a few clients involved, because the project collapsed. Gossip was soon claiming that he'd chosen men he was happy to see fall. That it was a matter of revenge, and he knew all along that the project was doomed.'
'Certainly an excellent way to make enemies,' Rutledge agreed.
'Quarles went to ground here in Cambury until the worst was over. The odd thing is, it was a nine days' wonder. His reputation for honesty prevailed, and the general opinion was, the men who complained were making him the scapegoat for their own poor judgment.'
'Did any of those clients live here in Cambury?'
'I have no way of knowing that. But I should think that if one of the investors was out for revenge, he wouldn't have waited all this time. Nearly two years.'
'I wonder. Did Quarles manipulate this scheme? Did he for instance collect investment funds but never transfer them to Cumber- line, knowing it was likely to fail? ' Rutledge had read parts of the treatise on Africa in Quarles's bedchamber. Surely a man as astute as he was said to be could see through the promises made in it?
Archer turned to look at him. 'What a devious mind you have.'
'It won't be the first time that such a thing was done.'
'Quarles has a partner. One Davis Penrith. I hardly think he could have perpetrated such a scheme without the knowledge of his partner. And Penrith is not the sort of man who could carry off such trickery, even if Harold could. He came into the firm to lend respectability. He has that kind of face and that kind of mind.' Archer hesitated. 'Although it was soon after the Cumberline fiasco that Penrith went his own way.'
'Interesting.'
'Yes, isn't it? But for Penrith, I'd almost be willing to believe in your suggestion. I don't particularly like the man, for reasons of my own. Still, Quarles has been scrupulously careful-a man of his background has to be. That's the way the class system works.'
The chauffeur had made his circuit of the pond and now stood some distance away, awaiting instructions. The High Street was busy, people taking advantage of a fine afternoon. From time to time they gathered in clusters, heads together. The likely topic of gossip today was Harold Quarles and his untimely death. Or possibly the news of Stephenson driving off with Padgett was already making the rounds. A number of people cast quick glances at Charles Archer seated in his motorcar, deep in conversation with the man from London. Speculation would feed on that as well, as Rutledge knew.
He made to open his door, but Archer said, 'Er-you will have noted the arrangements at Hallowfields. I wasn't cuckolding Harold, you know. I'm no longer able to do such a thing. But I would have, if I could. I've found that being with someone you love, whatever the arrangement, is better than being alone. I sank my pride long ago, in exchange for her company.'
'You needn't have told me this.'
'I read your expression when you saw us together. I want you to understand that what lies between Mrs. Quarles and myself didn't lead to murder. Harold's death won't change our arrangement in any way. She won't marry me. I'm honest enough to accept that.'
'Why not?'
'Because she knows that pity is the last thing I could tolerate. As it is, we are friends, and it is easier to accept pity from a friend. Not from a lover.'
'Thank you for being honest. I will not ask where you were late Saturday night. But I must ask if you can tell me with certainty that your invalid chair was in your sight for the entire evening and into the night.'
Archer considered Rutledge. 'You're saying someone moved the body. He wouldn't have been a light burden.'
Rutledge said, 'Yes.' The full account of the nightmarish hanging in the tithe barn would be out soon enough.
'For what it's worth, I give you my word that to my knowledge the chair never left my bedside.'
